There are days in this summer of ours that are frankly just a bit too hot for comfort. I’d bottle them up to let out for a brief glorious wallow in sticky heat in the middle of winter if I could, but on a thundery Saturday when running around the grass by the side of the cricket pitch feels like wrestling treacle and all you really want to do is demolish a string of giant ice lollies until you stop wondering whether you accidentally wandered into a volcano, it’s definitely time to retreat to the pavilion, and the shade, and the benches.
And the fence.
You can peek through it, you can think about squeezing under it, you can climb up on it, you can try all sorts of gymnastics,
and it’s the perfect place for sharing sisterly confidences.
But best of all, it’s the perfect vantage point for making yourself as tall as you possibly can, and gathering your biggest biggest voice, shouting a wonderful “Come on [Daddy’s team]” in the direction of the batsmen.
Because I’m sorry to say I rather think they needed it!